


Deep in the Hole

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Trials of Hell and Heart, or Season 8 Fan Fiction [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 08, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, Bait and Swap, Being a Prophet Sucks, Coda, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2013, Don't Mess with a Tran, Dream Sex, Dreams, Enochian, Episode: s08e17 Coda, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Epistolary, Explicit Language, Gen, Godzilla and Mothra, Hide and Seek, Impala, Language, Lessons from the Winchesters, Let sleeping angels lie, Love Letters, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Messing with Fate, Mind Control, On the Run, Search and Rescue, Sexual Content, The Angel Tablet - Freeform, The Demon Tablet, The Demon Trials, The Tablets, The Three Trials, Torture, Unanswered Prayers, Violence, doping, holy oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to events post-08x17 "Goodbye Stranger." </p><p>Castiel escapes with the Angel Tablet and tries to protect the Winchesters by staying away from them. The angel makes his own way, setting up safe houses and scrambling to recover his true memories, but his time is running out. The forces of Heaven hunt him down, and Crowley's agents capture Kevin Tran.</p><p>Will he survive long enough to complete his mission? Can he throw Naomi's mind control and return to the Winchesters? And will he be able save the Prophet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shackles

"What broke the connection?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I just know that I have to protect this tablet now," Cas replied as he gripped the Angel Tablet tighter. 

"From Naomi?"

"Yes," the angel replied. Castiel looked into Dean's eyes. He wanted to escape with the hunter, to take cover with the Winchesters, but - 

"And from you," Cas said to Dean.

"From me? What do you mean?" Dean asked as Cas teleported. Dean kept speaking. "Cas? Cas! Damn it!"

 

_Cas, I don't know what the hell is going on or what you meant, but you better get your feathery ass down here! We can help you protect the tablet, we've got a place to hide it. Damn it, Cas! You gotta trust me, you bastard!_

Castiel heard Dean's prayer as he finalized a secondary safe house in Vancouver, Canada.

He wanted to call Dean and explain himself, but he couldn't risk it. A combination of luck and Naomi's pride enabled his initial escape. Having never lost an angel she had ensnared, Naomi had no reason for contingency. By the time she marshaled a search, Castiel had boarded a bus to San Francisco, where he set up his first safe house. 

Castiel had been on Earth longer and had spent more time with humans than any other angel. No amount of cutting or zapping could obliterate that kind of experience. Unless he used his angelic powers, he remained undetectable from angel radar. With Sam's lessons on hex bags, Cas hid from demons. He was, as it were, hidden from the supernatural world. For now.

However, Cas knew he couldn't avoid using his powers for long. A demon would attack, or an angel scout would spot him, and he'd have to fight or to teleport. He needed safe houses for retreat, and he assumed that, between Naomi and Crowley, all his old haunts (as well as those of the Winchesters) were now compromised. 

Thus, Castiel kept himself busy. He moved constantly and continuously set up hideaways. Activity helped him focus, even as Dean's prayers snapped his heart into pieces.

 

_Cas, you bastard! You keep disappearing on me. Are you even alive? What did you mean you needed to protect the tablet from me? What do you think I'm going to do with it? You think I'd hurt Kevin? Or you? I deserve to know. I deserve to hear it from you. Now!_

Before, Dean's prayers had been more like daily summaries. Cas had listened as Dean explained how his grandfather time traveled to the present and how they dealt with an old friend turned-witch at the request of his familiar. 

That's assuming, of course, that Naomi hadn't compromised those memories or his ability to hear prayers.

Castiel found himself somewhere familiar. He entered a fancy hotel in Wichita, Kansas and checked in under the name Stephen Alexander Smith. The doorman recognized him and followed him into the elevator.

"Stephen," said the doorman, "you're here."

"Yes," Cas responded. Was yet another thing that Naomi had taken from him? 

"You're in room 1416. Right this way."

Cas followed the doorman down the winding halls to his assigned room number.

"I am very confused," Cas said. 

"Yes, Stephen," he replied, "you told me you would be. But you also said you might never come back, so – "

"Back?" Cas repeated.

"Your room," the man replied, waving his hand at the lock.

Cas fumbled with the plastic card and unlocked the door, and they both entered. 

It was as if a curtain lifted up. 

"Matthon?" Cas said, finally recognizing the doorman.

"Castiel."

"Brother, what are you – what are we doing here?"

Matthon spoke with concern, "You should remember everything, Castiel. Please, tell me what you can remember."

Matthon served under Anna with the Garrison. When the Leviathan captured the Prophet Kevin Tran, he left to bring the news to Heaven. He returned to find the others dead and had to go to ground. Cas did remember. 

"We've met here before." Cas said slowly. "You and I?"

"Yes, many times," Matthon replied.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember."

"It's okay, that's why I'm still here. We set up an arrangement. I keep messages safe for you."

"Yes, I remember that," Cas acknowledged as his memory slowly became more accessible. 

Matthon produced a DVD and said, "You gave this to me. Sometimes you add new recordings to it."

"Brother," Cas began, "you should leave. Find a new place to hide. I'm afraid I've put you in danger coming here."

"You say that every time," Matthon replied. 

"This is different. It's not just heaven I'm worried about," Cas admitted. "Please, Matthon, there are so few free angels left."

"Castiel, if I leave this place, the charm on this room will be gone, and you will remember everything when you leave it."

"I understand."

"Then, be well brother," Matthon said casually.

Matthon walked away. He had the discretion to travel without the use of his power, which was something Castiel failed to consider until the other angel left the room. The angels would be looking for anything supernatural, which meant that he needed to ignore the panic he felt and leave Wichita as humanly as he arrived.

Cas raced down the fire escape and made his way to the train station.

 

Castiel found a discreet motel in the middle of nowhere, Montana. He covered the place in sigils and closed the curtains, desperately hoping no angel caught his trail. 

He took the DVD and set it in the player, unsure if the disc had any content at all.

The TV screen showed his face. Then it panned out. 

"It's on," came a voice. It sounded like Matthon, but he wasn't on the screen. 

"You sure?" Cas saw himself ask. 

"Yes, go on."

Cas looked at the camera, which inexpertly captured his face and half the hotel room. 

"If I'm watching this, and remembering it, it's because I've figured out who has been tampering with my memories. After my return from Purgatory, I attempted to visit my friends. According to them, they kept seeing me, but not connecting. I don't remember this.

"I've lost memories. I remember the first fish with a spine, the first reptile – but I don't remember the Exodus from Egypt or Eden. I don't remember the First World War. I don't remember the Middle Ages. I'm sure there's more, but I can't remember.

"I can only conclude that someone has, or is currently, altering my memory or perceptions. I cannot stay in the presence of my friends with this possibility unresolved, so I have recorded the following information as to not lose it forever."

Castiel paused the DVD. According to the date and time stamped on the screen, he had recorded this message months ago, after that psychic-gone-cartoon case with the Winchesters. He put his hand on his abdomen, feeling the solid surface of the Angel Tablet affixed to him like armor. Did he want to watch the DVD, knowing pursuit was underway?

The angel decided that he needed to know what kind of information was there, so he pressed the play button. 

He saw himself speak, "This is in no particular order, except maybe relevance to my current situation. Sam and Dean Winchester are family. They see me as family, and I see them as family. 

"Anna fell to earth because she wanted to be human. She wanted to know how things felt. The Winchesters protected her and helped her, even though the forces of Hell and Heaven both vied for her. I was among the forces of Heaven with my brother Uriel."

Castiel watched himself smile; his entire face lit up with the fondness of the memory. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Or, maybe he just couldn't recollect the feeling.

"They said they'd give the human Anna to us. Dean only did it because he was forced to choose between his brother and Anna. Uriel and I went to collect her, and while we were there, a demon named Ruby – she was working with Sam – appeared with Alastair and others. While Uriel and I fought the demons, Anna retrieved her Grace and returned to her angelic form."

Cas turned off the DVD and ejected it. Naomi had left his memories of Sam and Dean in tact; at least, as far as he knew. It was clear, from this one recounting, that the message wasn't about factual history. It was about his relationship with humanity. He needed to remember Dean's reason for handing over Anna. He needed to know that Sam's plan to save her involved a move the angels never saw coming. 

He remembered that day. He could smell and see and hear all the events as he described them on the recording, but the angel didn't _feel_ it. He let himself remember Dean kissing Anna goodbye, but as he recalled it, he couldn't dredge up the emotions of the experience.

Naomi must have tampered with his memories of the Winchesters or, at the very least, her work had affected his abilities. Anger welled up in his ears till it roared like boiling water. 

Cas pocketed the DVD. He couldn't risk watching more of it now. He needed to ensure his connection to Naomi was severed completely before returning to the Winchesters.

 

_Cas. I don't know if you can hear me, but Sam is sick. I'm barely keeping it together. If our friendship, or profound bond or whatever the hell you called it before, means anything to you, you'll find a way to -_

_Damn it! I told you I needed you. And I meant it. I need you. I do._

Castiel hated Dean's late-night prayers. When the hunter couldn't sleep, his words became desperate and needy, almost begging. 

_You son of a bitch. How could you just abandon your family?_

Castiel listened. He used the prayers as a tether. Dean swore and yelled and accused, but Cas understood. He _felt_ it. Had Dean really hated Cas, he would never whisper to him in the dark, nor would he curse Cas's name or accuse the angel of abandonment. Dean didn't waste time like that on people he didn't care about.

_Right now my little brother is trying to pull Bobby out of hell, Cas. Bobby. You remember him don't you? And that bitch Naomi dropped by and had some things to say._

_That's it? You're gonna just leave it? With nothing? Because according to her, you don't have the same loyalty for me as I do for you. You know what? I'm starting to believe her, you cowardly, junkless sonovabitch!_

Weeks passed, and Cas couldn't handle it anymore. When Naomi prevented him from answering Dean's calls, she removed his will, his choice. But now he could choose to return to the brothers, and he hated himself for staying away. Cas needed to speak to Dean, to answer his questions, to explain himself.

Castiel obtained a plain-page leather-bound book from some generic bookstore. He remembered the first prayers after the crypt. Once he summoned up the memory of Dean's voice, he let himself feel everything.

Then he wrote his reply. Cas usually communicated in Enochian, but he knew Dean loathed translation. So, he scribbled his messages in untidy English.

Dear Dean:

I wish I could return to you and your brother. For your help protecting the Angel Tablet. For your company. I want to help you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. But it's too dangerous. Hell is already rallied against you because of the Trials. You don't need Heaven attacking you for the Tablet. 

I hope you understand that I never meant I couldn't trust you. I hate that I lied to you, but Naomi will do anything for the Angel Tablet, including torturing you.

I can't let that happen. 

Sincerely,   
Castiel

He wrote on and on, systematically answering each and every prayer, even if only to write a brief apology. It took ten hours to catch up.

 

_Kevin is missing. You remember him? The freaking prophet? Yeah, he's gone! He's run for it. We were supposed to protect him, Cas. Where are you? If you can hear me, what could possibly be more important than this?_

Dear Dean,

I will do everything I can to locate Kevin, but in my current state I am more of a danger to him than Crowley is. I fear the angels will kill him rather than let the Angel Tablet be translated. 

I always hear you, Dean. I am always listening. When you wake up from a nightmare and yell for your brother and then for me, I hear it. When you feel misery and withdraw to a shower or a lone car ride, and you think my name, I hear it. I listen. I am always listening. When you yell, when you whisper, when you vomit, when you bleed, when you speak. 

I should have told you a thousand times before. I should have made it clear to you. I always hear you. 

Yours always,   
Castiel

 

"I understand," said Goren. "And I will do my best, but even that will be no guarantee."

Castiel bowed his head in misery. He said, "I came because you are a healer."

"There's no doubt about that," Goren said. "I will heal you as best I can. Your vessel as well. But I don't know the extent of whatever this other angel did to you. So I can only hope to undo what I can see."

"That will be something at least," Castiel said. "I don't have much by way of payment."

Goren replied. "Stephen, you'll owe me a favor. How about that?"

Cas felt badly for using a pseudonym, but caution seemed appropriate.

"This will be unpleasant," Goren said apologetically. "If there is a place you find soothing, I suggest you mentally establish an image of yourself there."

Cas nodded. Goren placed one hand on the angel's head and plunged the second between his collarbones. The pain permeated every element of the angel's being, far beyond his vessel. The pain intensified when Goren pressed his other hand into Castiel's head. 

The angel screamed, only to discover that his voice failed him. Something pulled away from his consciousness, like a blanket or cloak, but heavier. Once whatever it was lifted, his awareness opened. The weight of Naomi's work, the chains she wrapped him in, dragged him down and down and down – 

"Stephen!" Goren called out.

Castiel came back to consciousness in a state of panic.

"Stephen," Goren repeated. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Do you know my name?"

"Goren."

"Good. I did all I could," Goren said as he helped the angel back to his feet.

"I felt it."

"Like I said, there are no guarantees," Goren said.

"I understand." 

"But, in the interest of that favor you owe me, I can give you the next best thing."

"What?" Cas asked more out of confusion than curiosity. 

Goren gave the angel a large receptacle of Holy Oil. "Insurance."

"Thank you, Goren," Cas said. "Goodbye."


	2. Violin Bow

_Castiel. It's Kevin Tran. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I don't know any other angels. I can't go to the Winchesters. They don't believe me, but I swear. Crowley is in my head. Sam and Dean need to survive so they can shut the gates on him forever._

_Castiel. It's Kevin Tran. I'm scared. I'm in hiding. I'm worried about my mom. I don't know what to do, but Crowley has his hooks in my head. Castiel, help me. Help me. Help me._

_Castiel. Hi. It's me. Kevin Tran. The prophet. I don't know any other angels. And I'm terrified. I need help. Someone, anyone? Please. I'm begging. I'm shaking and begging here. Help me, please. Please!_

Kevin's prayers were more traditional than Dean's, but Cas experienced the boy's distress, his madness. Something had taken hold of him. Perhaps an illness or fairy magic. Whatever it was, it wasn't demonic in nature.

Gorden's remedy had side effects, not the least of which was the tendency towards rage and wrath. Cas rarely encountered such anger and containing it became more difficult with every passing day. The arrogance of anyone who dared harm the prophet, the torture Naomi wrought on him and so many other angels - all of it rallied Castiel's fury.

Cas exited a bus in downtown Chicago. He shook off the demons and angels an hour ago, but both groups were closing in. It was just a matter of time before they discovered him again, and he needed to set things in motion before that happened. 

_Cas! Help me! NO! They've got me! Castiel!_

Castiel forced himself to listen to Kevin's frantic cries. It helped him focus on his mission and spurred him forward. He retrieved what he'd come for and immediately teleported to his safe house in Missouri.

Instantaneously, his act sparked interest. Demons and angels zeroed in on him. In his safe house, they couldn't pinpoint him, but they discovered his approximate location. He had no more time. 

_Castiel. It's Kevin Tran. If you can hear me, please make sure my mom is okay. I need to know she's okay. I didn't make it to her. Protect her, please. Please._

Kevin's pleads overlapped with Dean's latest prayer, which made Cas wish he had time to stop and write.

_Cas, you bastard. Benny's dead. He died helping Sam outa Purgatory with Bobby's soul. That bitch Naomi helped us. She helped us! I don't trust her, but it's hard to hate her when I don't know what the hell is going on! I don't know what she's done to you, if she ever did anything to you at all, Cas. Cas! But Kevin is missing. Gone. No one has seen him. And what can I do? Sam's coughing up blood, sick with God knows what, and you left us. You left me._

Demons were just outside the door. Normally he'd smite them, but angels would read that from across the galaxy, and he couldn't risk that kind of exposure. 

He teleported to Hong Kong.

 

 **Saint Petersburg, Russia**.   
_I can't. I can't read this tablet, Castiel. Crowley's gonna turn me inside out. I can't read it. I can't see the words anymore. My eyes. They don't work -_

 **Namibe, Angola**.   
_Sam can barely stand. He can't shoot. Kevin's missing, so we don't know what the next trial is. My little brother is falling apart, Cas. I can't do this._

 **Nanchang, China**.   
_You sonofabitch. We need you. Part of me hopes you're dead._

 **Bordeaux, France**.   
_His fever is a hundred and seven, and all I can do is put him in a tub of ice. Coughing blood. And now he's acting like he's nine. Garth is missing. We could use some healing here, Cas, or at least some fucking company. If Naomi is right, if this is all about the stupid Tablet, then just – forget it. Don't even bother. You ditch on us for that, then you're not family anymore._

 **Adrar, Algeria**.   
The silence from Kevin bothered Cas. If Crowley captured him, he could be incapacitated or worse. But Cas focused on the prophet anyway, he might be able to find him, but - 

Two of Crowley's best demons attacked, slashing and hacking with angel blades. Cas parried and twisted, disarming one of them and acquiring a second angel blade for himself. He brought them both down and cut the first assailant in half. 

The remaining demon, Kull, didn't take any chances.

"I'll be back with friends!" Kull growled before he disappeared. 

Castiel followed suit, teleporting back to Adrar before his next destination.

 **London, UK**.   
_You've done nothing but leave me, Cas. You left me to go after Purgatory with Crowley. Then you left with amnesia or whatever it was. Then you went insane. Then you abandoned me in Purgatory. Maybe you always had your reasons. Stopping Raphael. Evading the Leviathan. Protecting me. Naomi's crap. You know, I was willing to let that shit go, I was just gonna be okay with that last beat-down you gave me because the mind-control thing._

_But now, I don't care. All you've done the past two years is betray me, lie to me, and leave me. So just take your reasons and shove them up your lilywhite ass. You haven't called me back, or visited me, so I guess I've got my fucking answer. You don't care about me, and you don't care about Sam, and you sure as hell don't need either of us. So do us both a favor, don't come back._

 

 **San Francisco, California**.   
_Castiel. I'm okay. I'm pretty sure Crowley's got me in a mind fuck trap, but I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay._

Kevin's prayers slowly devolved into little more than Castiel's name and a single, repeated word. 

Dean stopped praying. He no longer reached out to Castiel after waking from a nightmare, and he no longer desired to meet his old friend on the road. He didn't even think the angel's name. It was a new level of suffering for Cas, far worse than the painful insanity, death by explosion, and torture Naomi had put him through.

 **Boring, Oklahoma**. 

Castiel collapsed. The idea that Dean meant what he had said, that Cas shouldn't bother returning to the Winchesters, tormented him. It weighed him down like plutonium. The angel had set all this in motion solely for the opportunity to return to the brothers without drawing the wrath of Naomi – 

A blade pressed against his neck. Castiel's eyes met those of Asa, another angel. Two more joined him. Cas recognized them as Sapphire and Amber.

"Brother," all three said in unison.

 

It took all three of them to subdue Castiel, who had two angel blades and far more experience as a soldier. In the end, they strapped him into a wooden chair with Enochian etchings designed to bind his powers. 

Sapphire disappeared when Naomi arrived. 

"Castiel. It seems as if we finally caught up with you," she said. "I see you lifted the veil I set over you. From what I can see, though, it's done you more harm than good."

Cas responded with a look of confusion.

"You're drained," she explained. "Your feelings got the better of you. Had you kept the veil over your eyes, we'd still be chasing you."

"Better to be free of your poison," Cas retorted.

"Where is the Angel Tablet?"

"Safe," Castiel replied. "No angel should possess it."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"I need to protect it."

"You're confused," Naomi said. "You were insane before you were banished to Purgatory for over a year. No one can blame you for being paranoid. Castiel, the only way to protect the Angel Tablet is to give it to me."

Cas looked at Asa and Amber. Both showed signs of Naomi's mutilation. 

"I can't give the Tablet to you," Cas said to Naomi. "And if Asa or Amber took it, they'd be free of your control. Both of us know you won't have that, Naomi."

"That's not true. You're confused."

"Very well. I will tell Asa where to get it. It will only be freed by an angel's uncovered hand; otherwise, it won't budge from its hidden place."

Naomi's wings appeared suddenly. She immediately shut herself down, forcing herself to maintain control. 

"That's what I thought," Cas stated simply.

"Tell me where the Tablet is," Naomi said. "Or I will make you tell me."

"We both know that you can make me do many things," he said. "But you could not make me kill Dean Winchester, and you will not make me disclose the Tablet's location."

She whispered to him. "You don't remember much of what I have done to you. I assure you, that is about to change."

Naomi presented a sliver of wire before she ran it over Castiel's ear. It plunged in, sending electric shocks throughout his body. He screamed as the pain continued. The wire jolted his brain and burned the flesh of his vessel. 

Memories bubbled up. In each one, Naomi had him secured to a chair in a pristine room. She could've tortured him there for two minutes or all eternity. He couldn't tell.

Castiel recalled that he had stared down Lucifer and died for his trouble. Likewise with Raphael. Yet, never before had his body been so rigid, his pain and panic been so debilitating, as it was in Naomi's chair. He never encountered terror like that, not even waist-deep in the pit rescuing Dean – 

He clung to that memory: Castiel gripped Dean tightly and retreated from Hell with no fear of the demons attempting to stop him. He had found Dean Winchester, and in that moment, the angel discovered his own salvation. Naomi couldn't take that away.

It stopped. Naomi removed the wire.

"We're just getting started, so let's try this again: Where. Is. The. Angel. Tablet?"

"Go to hell!"

Yelling one of the Winchester mottos at Naomi gave him courage and something to hold on to when the next wave of pain hit him.

 

Asa whipped him, leaving his vessel torn and disjointed from his true self. Pain ratcheted up toward the level of death -

"Stop," Naomi ordered. "Keep him alive."

Asa stepped away. 

"Tell me where the Tablet is, Castiel."

"The tablets were not meant for the angels - " Cas began.

Naomi interrupted, "If you don't tell me, do you know what will happen?"

He said nothing. 

"I won't kill you," she said quietly. "I will keep you in a chair just like this one. Then I will bring Dean Winchester here, and you will watch I slowly carry out the order you disobeyed."

In spite of the pain, Cas laughed. "You? Kill Dean Winchester?"

She slashed down his face with her angel blade. It clipped one of his eyes and disoriented him. 

Cas continued anyway. "Dean killed Zachariah. He openly defied and faced Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael. You believe you will succeed where four archangels have failed?"

Another slash.

"It's true. Others far more powerful than me have made mistakes, but don't forget, I don't care about the Winchester vessel. Dean no longer possesses a higher purpose. If I need to slaughter him in front of you for the safety of Heaven, I will."

"He'll kill you first," Cas replied with a smile. "Even you can't be prideful or stupid enough to think otherwise."

Slash! This time she took off one of his ears. 

"Now, now," a soft voice crooned. "You two should learn to play nice."

Naomi saw Crowley and his posse of demons, all armed with angel blades. Asa and Amber readied for a fight, and Naomi charged herself to go nuclear.

Pop! Crowley disappeared, and Naomi showed her true countenance, destroying a half-dozen demons. Pop! Crowley re-appeared and impaled Asa, throwing the angel to the ground dead. A dozen more demons appeared, readied with angel blades.

Outnumbered, Naomi nodded to Amber, and they both disappeared. Neither made any attempt to haul Castiel away with them. He laughed bitterly.

"What's so funny?" Crowley asked.

"I'm glad to see you."

"Is that right, love? That's touching."

The angel couldn't help himself. He was aware that Crowley would do far worse than Noami, but he was actually happy to see Crowley, happy he drove Naomi's forces off. That thought was so funny to him that even the blood bubbling up through his mouth didn't stop him. 

"You offer yer rocker again? Because that'll make far this less fun, Cassie. Less fun but still doable."

Crowley jabbed precisely into Castiel's abdomen below the chest. 

"Practiced a bit on a few of your brethren," he explained. "We don't want you dying just yet, now do we?"


	3. Sinking Down

"What do you mean, side effects?" Crowley demanded. 

Lachesis replied, "It took a lot of weaving to get him to leave his hiding place. More than it should of. It might be a few days before his system is clear and he can think straight again."

"You're telling me he'll be useless for days?" 

"Useless but in your hands," she reassured him. "When he's we'll again, he'll be pliable. I have a number of – "

"I need him to read the Tablets!" Crowley bellowed. "He's near stark-raving mad right now and can barely read a billboard!"

"That will pass," Lachesis explained.

"When you said you'd get me the Prophet, I was operating under the assumption that he'd be functional!"

"It's temporary," she raised her voice. "He will read the Tablet again."

"If this doesn't pan out, love, I'm taking it out of your hide, you understand?"

"I am not concerned."

Crowley had worked with plenty of maddening people before, but working with one of the Fates topped all others. It was her certainty in the face of all opposition and possible complications that killed him.

"If you can't un-crazy my Prophet, then I have another assignment for you."

"Oh?"

"I have someone whose head I'd like you to peek into. What do you say?"

 

Kevin Tran had never done drugs. The strongest pain medicine he'd ever taken was ibuprofen, and the only stimulant he had ever used was caffeine. Still, he knew something alien pumped through his system: the hallucinations, the dreams, the sensation of his own body. 

Several months ago he had developed a calm, soothing view of life. Maybe he would be slowly tortured to death, but Crowley could never have his soul. He didn't understand how or why having a parking spot reserved upstairs comforted him. Maybe it was a Prophet thing.

This drug, whatever it was, made him jittery, on edge, and elated all at the same time. His Zen attitude towards death didn't make the journey any smoother; after all, as soon as his body came down from whatever this was, Crowley would try to force him to read the Tablet. So Kevin Tran indulged in it. When it surged, he rode the wave, not just rolling with the punches, but cresting the surf, never letting himself fall. 

The result was a bafflingly hysterical version of the Advanced Placement student. He listed facts about chemicals, historical battles, equations, and lines from Shakespeare. He acted like he spoke to imaginary friends and figments of his imagination.

 

Lachesis enjoyed breaking into people's heads. It's what she did best. Crowley led her to a tiny torture chamber where a beaten and bloody angel waited, slowly dying. 

"He knows where the other tablet is, and I might've, uh, inflicted slightly more damage than I intended. Well, technically Naomi, darling that she is, did most of it. The tot beat me to it."

Lachesis sized the angel up and asked, "The goal?"

"It's high time I eliminate this angel once and for all, but he is the only one who knows where this other tablet is. Your job is to pinpoint its location for me before this one snuffs it."

She replied, "I'll need just a few minutes."

She examined Castiel's face and lingered over his remaining ear. She remarked, "Someone else has been tapping into his memories."

Crowley nodded smugly. "That'd be Naomi. She always was a crafty little minx, but from what I hear, she's got nothing on you." The King leaned in to whisper to her, "He's been quite a crafty little angel in the past, so do me a favor and be absolutely certain."

"You don't – have to, do this. You shouldn't," Cas sputtered at Lachesis.

"You and your motley crew got rid of the meaning of 'have to,' Castiel. I don't have to break open your skull to find what the King here asked for, but I want to. After all, the King of Hell gave me a job after some dicks voided my previous occupation," Lachesis replied. "You should've know better than to piss off the Fates, angel."

"Not me, I mean you – "

She didn't wait for him to say anything else. She took his brutalized head in her hands and buried her feelers, for lack of a better word, into his mind.

Lachesis shivered. Most living creatures had minds like shelters, the climate temperate to the individual's preferences, but this angel's mind was like a cavernous hole, deep and treacherous and freezing. It was a place one retreated when, and only when, all other security had been violated. Castiel's mind was nothing but broken prayers and the sounds of Naomi's tools drilling. She infiltrated his barriers, tortured his mind until – 

She laughed. She yanked away from him, tearing his already vulnerable spirit and flesh.

"He's clever," she said. "He broke it into four pieces."

"Did he now," Crowley said. "And these – "

"All concealed within his vessel. I hope you don't mind, but I only agreed to find them. Perhaps someone better tuned to flesh will do the, uh, retrieval?"

Lachesis marked Castiel's shoulder blades and upper thighs. "This circle is approximate."

"Oh, it'll do nicely love."

Castiel wasn't aware of this conversation. Lachesis's little mind game was like fangs to the brain. His hearing and sight were both compromised.

_Castiel. Hi. It's Kevin Tran. I'm being held in an old library. They think I'm crazy. I am crazy, but not as crazy as they think I am. I don't think I'll have any luck making it out of here -_

Normally Castiel heard prayers no matter what, but the sound blurred as Crowley dug instruments into his shoulders. The demon took his time with it, and he used dull instruments not suited to the task at hand. Cas remembered that Crowley never had an opportunity to exact revenge on the angel for his prior betrayal.

Luckily, the King of Hell was impatient, so he made short work of the angel's legs. He held up the quartered Tablet in triumph.

"Now for a word with your little prophet," Crowley said happily.

Cas examined his surroundings. Was he in the same building as Kevin? Crowley's easy stroll suggested it. The King was prone to either stealthy or flashy exits, so why was he walking out? Perhaps the Prophet was nearby. 

Castiel had been scratching away the sigils on the chair with his fingernails during his captivity. Crowley's interrogation hindered his work for almost an hour, but he finally obliterated the last of the primary sigils. Once eradicated, his Grace woke from its dormant state, and he wasted no time. 

Cas yanked at his coat until a bottle of elixir fell out. He splashed its contents over his vessel. It wouldn't heal his true form, but it would keep his vessel in tact so he could move again. The elixir boosted his Grace, putting his energy into overdrive. 

Abruptly, his flesh repaired itself as his Grace revved up. He used what little force he could muster to crack and splinter the chair completely. 

Then he turned invisible. Without full power, he could never hope to defend himself or Kevin from Crowley. His only chance remained in stealth.

He honed in on Kevin's prayer. The Prophet was nearby.

 

Crowley presented the four pieces of the Angel Tablet to Kevin, who held them like prized possessions. First one, then the other, then the last – he reassembled the Tablet. It was whole again. 

Kevin delicately placed the Tablet on the only chair in the room and sat on the floor beside it, like a child sitting at the foot of a parent listening to a long story.

After a few moments of stillness and silence, Crowley held out his half of the Demon Tablet to Kevin. The kid began to babble as he reached for it.

The King yanked it out of the Prophet's reach.

"That's mine!" Kevin stammered. "Rarer than diamond! Albino! Mine!"

"I will give this to you on one condition, birdie," Crowley said. "You have to read it to me."

"Like a bed time story?" Kevin said. "I can read the rock."

"Right, then," Crowley handed it over. 

The Prophet grabbed a Sharpie from the ground and hurried over to a wall. He looked at the Tablet, then the wall, then he wrote. 

"Gotta write the wall for sense, then it's a bedtime story," Kevin said, his body fluttering. 

Crowley watched as the once-intelligence teenager scribbled crassly on the wall. Kevin moved and marked the other walls, as if each one were dedicated to a topic on the Tablet. That was, of course, assuming his madness gave him method. 

"Demonic influence on the collective tapestry of the soul," he wrote. Crowley remembered that from an earlier session. He could live with the prat madly transcribing the Tablets all over the decor, so long as it got done. 

"You two," the King of Hell barked at two guards. "Make sure surveillance is on him at all times. I've got an old partner to torture to death."

Cas watched as Crowley strolled out of a room that was clearly warded against angels. Dimly, Cas knew that Kevin must be nearby, but it was difficult to concentrate. His healing was superficial at best, and he felt himself dying. 

'No,' he told himself. 'If this room is warded, it's because Kevin is inside. If I can rescue him, I have to. I can't die. Not yet.'

One of the guards chased after Crowley. "Boss, he's, uh, really messing up the walls – "

Abruptly, light passed into the room, and Castiel spotted Kevin Tran wildly scribbling everywhere.

Crowley turned to the demon, "He's crazy, you fool! Of course he's messing everything up!" 

Unknown to the King, Kevin's transcription slowly covered the Enochian sigils warding his dungeon, allowing Castiel to sneak in. Despite his invisibility, Kevin recognized a presence in the room, and his yelp of surprise alerted the remaining guard.

The demon examined the room, but he saw nothing. He stared at Kevin for a few moments. Kevin yelped again and continued to write, and the guard relaxed slightly. Apparently he assumed that crazy Prophets just made odd noises for no reason. 

Down the hall, Crowley continued to yell. "He's transcribing Tablets, you idiot! Now go back and make sure that little prat has enough markers! And while you're at it, send someone to get wall paper for him, too!"

There were no windows in the dungeon, and Cas could sense the multiple layers of warding magic that covered the rest of the building. Teleportation was impossible from here. 

"But, sir – "

"I'm sorry, was there something about that direct order that confused you?"

"No, sir."

"Then why are you still standing here?" 

Crowley left. Cas surged forward and grappled the nearest guard, easily impaling him with an angel blade that the demon had pilfered from one of Castiel's siblings. The other guard raced in, but the angel had no trouble taking him out. Invisibility had its perks in a fight.

Alarms went up. 

Castiel hoisted Kevin to his shoulder and ran for it. Their only hope at escape was teleportation. He needed to find somewhere, anywhere, he could tap into all of his power.

Kevin wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, securing himself around his still-invisible rescuer.

Black smoke surrounded them. Hellhounds bayed. Alarms blared over and over. Cas required only a single window, even just a tiny one, but his enemies were closing in. The angel would have to be creative. 

Castiel raced recklessly toward the closest exterior wall. At the last second, he leapt and twisted, protecting Kevin's fragile human body from the impact as the angel's back punched straight through the brick and concrete.


	4. On the Floor

"Well?" Dean asked Sam as he returned to the diner. "What did, whatever-her-name-is-"

"Detective Glass," Sam corrected.

"What did she want?"

"Apparently her sister was dying of cancer until she had a miraculous recovery two days ago, which was around the time our partner from the Weird Cartoon Case asked her to give us this."

Sam held out what looked like an old book and a DVD. 

"Seriously? We drove out here for this?" Dean inquired.

Dean left money for the check and dragged his brother toward the Impala. 

"Dean, what're you – "

"Detective Glass isn't an idiot, Sam. Maybe the miracle healing thing made her think twice, but she's gotta know something's up with us."

"We did blow town after that last case," Sam acknowledged. 

"Right. So let's get the hell outta here."

Sam sat in the passenger seat. He asked, "You think she's setting us up?"

"I don't know, and I'm not waiting around to find out."

"Don't you even wanna know what Cas left for us?"

"No."

When Dean got onto the highway, he said, "Keep your eyes peeled and an ear to the scanner."

"Right."

Sam flipped through the book. As soon as he realized what it was, he shut it. 

"Angel porn?" Dean quipped.

"It's for you," Sam replied.

"Screw him."

"Dean, you've been reaching out to him for weeks, and now he's finally answered, and you don't even wanna know?"

"Getting our asses pulled into the fire and possibly caught is not an answer. Him leaving his diary, or whatever it is, and some DVD isn't him giving me any fucking answers, Sam."

Sam flipped through the pages, glancing for keywords. He found a promising passage to read out loud. 

"Dear Dean: I miss you and your brother. There is nothing more I want to do than join you at this bunker you keep telling me about – "

"Then where the hell is he?" Dean barked.

Sam continued, "But I have been compromised by Naomi's meddling. She has taken my memories from me and at one point even my will. How can I return to you when I do not know if I can control myself?"

The entry went on, but Sam skipped ahead to the last page with writing, wondering if Cas left an explanation for sending them the journal now.

"Dear Dean, I am afraid I have failed in every way. Crowley and Naomi are closing in on me, and if I come to you I know I will put you and Sam in the line of fire, which is the last thing you need right now with Sam's illness. I hope you did not mean what you said – that you didn't want me to see you again – because right now that's the only thing I have to inspire me, seeing you both again. But if that's what you want, I will oblige. The silence from you is more painful than anything I remember Naomi doing to me. Given my current situation, I doubt I'll live long enough to lament the loss of our bond – "

"Lament?" Dean interrupted. "He wrote that?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, shut up and listen to the rest. Okay, where was I? Right. ...to lament the loss of our bond properly. If this is the case, please know that I trust you and your brother above anyone I have ever met in all the universe. Even in my deepest state of confusion, when I was plunged into the depths of Naomi's control, I trusted you more than I trusted myself. I am leaving a DVD I made for myself in your care. I think you and Sam would be the only ones to appreciate it in the event of my death. Sincerely yours forever, Castiel."

 

Thankfully, Sam put on some music and shut his trap for the rest of the ride back to the bunker. Dean imagined himself grabbing Cas by the collar and demanding his cooperation, making him hide at the bunker with the stupid tablet. That's what he should've done back at the crypt. Friends don't let friends take on Heaven and Hell over a slab of rock.

With Garth missing, Dean didn't even know where to start on finding Kevin. From what Sam just read, Dean had to accept the probability that the angel was already dead. Why else would he arrange a special delivery for the Winchesters?

"I can feel you thinking," Sam said, blood dripping from his nose.

"Use a tissue," Dean said. "No blood on the upholstery!"

As Sam stopped up his nose, Dean continued, "What do you mean, you feel my thoughts? Is that part of the trial crap?"

"No, idiot, it's a brother thing," Sam retorted. His voice was overly nasal due to the tissue up his nose. "It's all over your face."

"What is?"

"You're worried about Cas."

"Sam, don't do this – "

"You gotta believe he's still out there, okay? Like Kevin and Garth. Sometimes people fall off the map without being six feet under."

"Not our friends."

"He wanted to make sure we had this, so I say, movie night," Sam said waving the DVD.

Dean didn't want to know what was on it. He didn't want to think about Cas at all. Putting the angel out of his head for the past week was his only way through all this crap. Seeing Charlie raised his spirits, but watching Sam deteriorate gradually under the weight of the Trials tore at him beyond what even Alastair had achieved in the pit.

 

Sam checked his watch. They were forty minutes out from the bunker, and he was impatient both to figure out the Third Trial and to watch the contents of the DVD.

Dean gassed up in Osborne. 

"Anything on the police scanner?" he asked his brother.

"No. They'd've been on us before we crossed state lines."

"Maybe we should, you know, shake'em off a little more, just in case."

"Come on, Dean," Sam pleaded. "We're almost there. Let's just get home."

They had been on 181 for only a few minutes when Sam's phone rang. 

"Hello?"

"Hi. Sam? This is Sam? Sam, this is Kevin. You know, Kevin Tran. Hi." 

"Kevin, where the hell are you?"

"Actually I called because you just passed us by. Stealthy, I guess." 

"What?"

"We're on the north bound side of 181. Just saw you guys. Well, not you, but the Impala. Not so much saw as heard. Didn't actually see the license plate - "

"Hold on," Sam said into the phone. He turned to Dean, "Turn around, we need to head back toward the gas station. Kevin's on the north bound side, we just passed him – "

Dean didn't think; he just acted, following Sam's instructions. 

"Kevin, we're coming," Sam said. "What's going on?"

"I, uh, don't know, outta juice, hurry up – tablet, you know? Mine. And that's me."

Kevin sounded strung out, but he continued speaking. Sam didn't understand most of what he said. He spoke too fast and started leaving out key words from his sentences.

Dean rolled up on the shoulder. Both brothers popped out of the vehicle and saw Kevin kneeling over someone else. Sam hung up.

"Is that Garth?" Dean asked Sam. 

"I dunno, I guess," Sam replied.

Kevin yelled, "He warned me. Said they'd follow!"

"Cas?" Dean said. 

"Not so good, right?" Kevin said. "Mostly the brick wall. And probably the torture. Maybe drugs. Wasn't there myself."

"We'll talk about it anywhere but here," Dean said, hauling Cas up. He had to hoist the angel up and over both shoulders because Cas couldn't get to his feet.

"You able to drive?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah, definitely."

"You get shotgun kid," Dean said to Kevin. 

Once in the car, Dean took a rag and tied it around Kevin's face.

"Can't see, why – " 

Dean interrupted Kevin, "That whole Crowley-in-your-head thing. I'm guessing you won't flee in a panic if you don't know where you are. Even if he is in your head, you won't be able to tell him."

Kevin stopped tugging at the blindfold. "Right. Crowley-be-gone. Not really. Not entirely. Close enough. Right?"

"Don't mention it," Dean replied.

Sam asked, "How's Cas?"

"My vessel is better off than I am," Cas muttered. "Healing was superficial. Too weak to adequately heal myself."

"You gonna make it another, I dunno, hour?" Dean asked. 

"Assuming no additional attempts on my life, I'll heal."

Dean slipped the correspondence book into Cas's hands along with the DVD.

"You don't like them?" Cas asked.

"You'll be able to tell me yourself," Dean replied. "Assuming you'll stick around once you're healed."

"I'd like that," Cas whispered. 

"Right," Dean said, the edge of disbelief in his voice. "Just hang in there."

Sam saw Kevin's tremors from the corner of his eye. 

"Kevin? How're you holding up?" Sam asked.

"Did something to me, made me crazy paranoid, and then just crazy – shaking. Shakes. I am shaking?"

"Lachesis," Cas spoke up from the back seat.

"Lack-what?" Sam asked.

"One of the Fates, you met her sister," the angel replied.

"I remember that bitch, she tried to explode us with fire," Dean said. He spoke to Kevin, "You survived a Fate? Impressive."

"My tablet. Right? Mine. Tablet gotta read, gotta keep it," Kevin said. He pressed himself back into the car seat.

"Will he be okay?" Dean asked Cas.

"Lachesis drugged him," Cas said weakly. "He might have withdrawal. There's uh – "

Blood bubbled out of the angel's mouth.

"This is not good," Dean said.

"No, it's - my injury upon our escape – " Cas gurled. 

"Can't you tap the power of my soul, heal yourself?" Dean asked.

"There's no need," Cas said. "I'll be fine."

 

Dean and Sam frog-marched a blindfolded Kevin into the bunker. Dean returned to the car, pulled Castiel to his feet, and helped him trundle to the door.

"We're going to set you up in a room," Dean said. "And you'll be better in no time."

"Dean," the angel said as they closed the bunker door and locked it. "I want you to read this." He handed off the correspondence book

"You're not staying?" Dean asked.

"I'm weak and need rest. This has things I want you to know now," he said. "Please. I wrote it in English for you."

Dean took it to appease the angel. "No promises on how far I'll get."

Sam un-blindfolded Kevin. 

"Woah," Kevin remarked.

"Yeah, we'll set you up in a room," Sam said.

"Sammy, I can do that," Dean offered.

"You've got Cas."

"I can do both, you should – "

"Shut up, I'm setting Kevin up."

"Is this place, like, you know, protected?" Kevin asked. "Safe. No telepath-Crowley kind of thing?"

"This place is protected from everything," Dean said as he led Cas away. They disappeared, leaving Sam and Kevin in the war room.

"Great, my tablet," Kevin said as he took a seat. 

"You should rest," Sam said. "You look worse than me, which is saying something."

"No, I can't, I can't. Need to do this now. Now that I have the other half. It can be whole now." 

Kevin pulled out Crowley's half of the Demon Tablet. 

"Is that – "

"With my notes I'll have all of it. All of it!" Kevin's excitement peaked.

"Your notes?"

Kevin pointed to his head. "Advanced Placement."

Sam's laughter boomed throughout the bunker. "You are the best prophet of all time."

"You're just saying that because you're hopped up on the trials," Kevin said, "and you'll be strung out till you finish them."

"Hopped up? You were doped by Fate!"

"Don't tell my mom. Say no to drugs, even doping."

"Deal."

 

Dean snagged sheets from the Linen Closet and walked Castiel to the room next to his. 

"We share a wall, so all you need to do is knock, and I'll be there, okay?"

Cas sounded stronger already. He said, "I don't think I'll need much assistance. My Grace will heal me, given a day or two of rest and safety."

"What the hell happened?" he asked. 

The angel's face broke into a smile. "When Mothra and Godzilla are on your ass, you need to get out of the way and let them fight."

Dean pushed Cas into the lone chair in the room. He began to make the bed.

"Where did you hear that? Wait," Dean took a moment to think. "That was a while ago, back with Ruby and Anna."

"You and Sam taught me that."

Dean cast a sideways glance at Castiel. "What happened?"

Dean's eyes locked into Castiel's.

"You're not going to tell me?" Dean asked. He grabbed Cas by the lapels of his trench coat and pulled him close. "I thought you said you trusted me."

Without blinking, Cas replied, "You have my solemn vow, Dean Winchester, I will tell you everything."

Dean released his grip on the angel and guided him into the now-made bed. 

"Go ahead."

"I had the Angel Tablet," said Cas, "which I believe prevented Naomi from forcing me to obey. I sought a healer to ensure the connection was broken, and by then, people started to catch up with me."

"You should've come to us," Dean interrupted.

"I planned to, but then Kevin started to pray to me. He was in trouble, and – "

"Why didn't you come to us?" 

"I couldn't."

"Really? You couldn't? Or you wouldn't?"

"Couldn't."

"So you went after Kevin. Alone. Where's the Angel Tablet?"

"Crowley – "

"Crowley? Crowley has the Angel Tablet?" Dean interrupted.

"I'm sorry Dean."

"You always are," Dean snapped. He saw Castiel's expression drop, and he looked so much more ill and smaller like that. "You should rest."

"Dean – "

He left Cas in the room and shut the door behind him.


	5. Hell & Misery

Dean rummaged through the book Cas gave him. His eyes scanned the pages, but he didn't read much. He hated everything he did manage to read. Every four words, the angel apologized. He apologized for not knowing what to do, for making a snap decision in the crypt and bolting. He apologized for Naomi's mind control. He apologized for the Angel Tablet's effects on him. 

His heart stopped on one entry.

Dear Dean:

I can't remember the last time I made a choice without some force clouding my ability. Back in Purgatory, when I stayed behind? Or maybe right when I got out of Purgatory, when I first tried to appear to you to tell you I was back. After that, Naomi had her hooks in me, and now that's gone, I feel – 

I feel, Dean. I don't know how I managed to function before without my emotions. She tried to take those away from me. She tried to destroy what I am, who I am so I would obey blindly. I have never known hatred like this, anger like this. I must curb it now, because your life depends on it, so does your brother's.

But I feel again, Dean. Like I did in Purgatory. And I wish you knew, that you understood, this was taken from me by force. By conditioning. When you looked up at me and reminded me who I was, who you were to me, you broke through. You severed the callous mechanisms she stitched into me. But the damage was too much to heal all at once. 

I despise the idea that I will die without you knowing any of this. 

Sincerely yours,   
Castiel

Dean's hands were shaking. If he saw Naomi again, he'd gank her.

He'd spent so long being angry at Cas, and it had never occurred to him that the angel needed more help breaking away from Naomi. If their roles were reversed, Dean couldn't say he'd've done much differently.

'No,' he thought to himself, 'I wouldn't leave people out in the cold like that.'

He couldn't just forget it because this wasn't the first time Cas had made this mistake. The circumstances were different, but the choice remained the same. And Cas's choice never seemed to be to trust Dean or Sam.

 

Kevin wrote incessantly. 

"You okay here, kid?"

"What? Yeah."

"I'm gonna put these on," Sam held out his headphones. "You'll have to poke me if you need me."

"I'll manage."

Sam put in Castiel's DVD. He watched as Castiel fondly recounted his history with the Winchesters. Sometimes he didn't appreciate the commentary, such as 'And Sam was really annoying when he left me this message about some stuff. But maybe that's because I was really drunk at the time and everything annoyed me.'

He had to pause it after the first hour. Part of him was near tears. How the hell did Castiel make memories of the Apocalypse so fucking moving? 

Kevin continued to write, so Sam felt obliged to keep awake. He hadn't been sleeping anyway, so he might as well ensure the Prophet didn't have a stroke in the process.

"Water?" he asked Kevin.

"Yeah, great, thanks."

"Have you eaten?"

"I can't remember."

"I'll get you a snack then."

 

Crowley paced the length of his office. Losing Castiel, that was fine, but he needed Kevin Tran. 

"Mr. Crowley," Kull said tentatively. 

"Good news, Kull, or I'll have your spleen for my Christmas Tree."

"We have word the angels cannot find Kevin Tran or Castiel, so they've started Plan B."

"Plan B?" Crowley asked. "They have a Plan B?"

"Apparently our, uh, capture of the Prophet drew out another player," Kull said. 

"You have a counter initiative?" Crowley asked.

"I think you'll see that your winning streak isn't broken, just took a sharp left turn," Kull replied. "All I need are a few hands on deck. Smart enough to be discreet and quick."

"How close are you?"

"Narrowing down locations," Kull said. "Trust me, you'll be pleased."

"Take what you need," Crowley said. "I've got a date with the Winchesters. It's about time those nightmares learned who the King of Hell really is."

Kull bowed out and disappeared. 

He lost the prophet, but he wasn't worried. Kevin managed to squiggle most of his half the tablet on the walls before Castiel sprung him. And he still had the Angel Tablet. 

The Winchesters were doing the trials. Lachesis had pulled enough out of Kevin's head for him to know that. That's why his hellhound had been killed.

The trouble was that Crowley didn't have a damn checklist. Maybe they saved Bobby's soul from Hell, but a motley crew had assisted them. Ajay, Naomi, that vampire his contact told him about. The trials were a solo mission, so did that count? Was that even the second trial? Or had the Winchesters been successfully distracted by Bobby's predicament?

For the sake of simplicity, Crowley pulled out a devilishly stylish piece of stationary. He wrote the following: Identify the second trial. Identify the third trial. Destroy the Winchesters. Kill Castiel. Maim Naomi. Maim Kevin Tran. Kull's task.

He didn't have to do it in order, of course, but it would be so nice to tick of a task here and there.

 

Dean walked into the angel's room with a musty old book. Castiel peered up from the bed. He seemed even more beaten and tired than before. 

"Dean?"

"I, uh, read some of your letters and decided you need sleep."

"Angels don't sleep."

"That's why I brought this."

The book Dean carried held a sort of healing ritual for angels. 

"That would expedite my recovery, but you don't need to – " Cas began.

"You won't use my soul to heal yourself," Dean cut him off. "And you won't let me use any of the crap we have here to heal you, either. But this? You're doing this, okay?"

Castiel actually cowered under Dean's anger. He nodded. 

"What's with you?" Dean said.

"I feel how angry you are with me still," Cas replied. "I've already burdened you with my – "

"Shut up!" Dean yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Cas didn't respond right away. He knew how angry Dean was with him; he could feel it. The angel understood that there was more to this conversation, something he was missing. But he didn't have the strength for it.

"A lot," he answered. "You're right, I should – sleep."

 

Dean was in bed, watching the shadow of the rain as it trickled down the windows. He was alone. Then he wasn't. Castiel was there. Maybe he'd been there the whole time. Dean wasn't sure. 

Not a single word passed. The angel climbed into bed, covering Dean's body with his own. Neither of them had anything more than pajama bottoms on. When did that happen? Or were they already like that, and Dean hadn't noticed?

A kiss. Suddenly the details didn't matter. Castiel smoothed his hands over Dean's body, and without thinking, Dean maneuvered his palms down Cas's back. The sensation sent vibrations up his spine. Teeth and tongue and fingers. Dean had never been so aroused in his life, but everything was going by too fast. He didn't want it to be over yet. Intimacy was too rare for him, and he wanted to drink this in. To drink Castiel in. 

No words, no moans, no sounds, except for the friction between bodies, the wetness of lips, and the occasional slurp from a kiss. Dean bit Castiel's neck above the collarbone. Cas rutted against him and nipped his ear before finding a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, taking pleasure in leaving a shiny hickey. Dean returned the favor.

What little clothing they had on disappeared at some point, and their erections slid against each other as Cas pushed his hips down against Dean's. The angel's knees pressed against his inner thighs, spreading his legs apart while Cas's tongue and teeth played with one nipple and thumb rubbed against the other. Dean normally wasn't this passive in sex, even when on the bottom, but in this moment he didn't care. His hands gripped the angel's shoulders as Castiel drove him to the edge, over-sensitizing every nerve in his body, so much so that his back arched uncontrollably as the angel kissed and nipped down his happy trail. 

Dean was painfully hard and leaking. Cas glanced up at him, playfully, before swirling his tongue over the head of Dean's dick, as if they did this every night. Dean bucked again, unable to lie still, and his nails pierced Cas's shoulders from his grip tightening. 

Then Cas moved his hand down, putting it flat on the bed underneath Dean's erection. Slowly, teasingly, he took his hand, leaving it palm down, and rubbed the knuckles of his index and middle fingers tenderly up and down Dean's length while his lips and tongue attended to the head. His other arm spanned the length of Dean's hips, pinning the hunter down, preventing him from bucking.

Dean couldn't take it – he fruitlessly struggled against the angel, but Cas didn't relent. In the next instant, he took Dean as far into his mouth as possible, sucking hard and tight. Dean got his feet under him and pushed up, desperate and too hard up to stop himself. 

Cas released his cock and trapped him with knees and elbows and slowly moved up his happy trail, Cas's hand now tightened around Dean's erection - 

They kissed again, and all of a sudden, everything happened at once. Dean's brain couldn't keep up, and he didn't care. The last thing he remembered was the sensation of his orgasm cresting out of him as he stared into Castiel's deep, too-blue eyes.

 

Dean snapped awake and turned to Castiel – 

Who wasn't there. But he had just been there. Dean moved his hand to his neck. There wasn't a hickey there. Mortified, he checked his sheets. No, it wasn't a wet dream. Just a good dream.

'Damnit,' Dean thought to himself. He promised himself he wouldn't let Cas off the hook until they talked.

Dean needed Cas to tell him he understood that friends don't let friends think they've abandoned them. Instead he's dreaming about Cas like he used to right after the angel returned from Purgatory. 

Maybe that wasn't a bad thing. He'd have to figure it out in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> The episode title and its chapter titles are all derived from AC/DC song "Deep in the Hole."


End file.
